All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

22-06-02: Reuniting
It's been far too many turns since G'wain left home -- but finally, his and Lydiere's plans come to fruition, and he meets his mother again.

Katren is puttering about the hold. Or at least she has been, all the day through, doing the little chores here and there that must get done in order for life to continue in a neat and tidy manner. It's only now that she's getting a moment to relax. Well, such as it were - she's standing beside a table set up right outside, with a basket on top, filled with clothes. She's folding them. A thrilling task, no doubt, though she does manage to keep a hint of a smile on her face by humming random off-key snippets of song to herself. Another day.
Not just another day, but then she couldn't see that coming. At least Brockwell's not home... G'wain made sure of that as discreetly as possible, sending a firelizard in to check. A speck on the distance, Ahreluth draws closer and closer, looming over the smallish holding as he circles, then heads back away to a clear spot about two dragonlengths away. Doesn't want to stir up the dust, now.

Lydiere has her hands firmly holding herself in place between two of Ahreluth's neckridges, a little distracted, perhaps-- but who wouldn't be, with a lifemate agitating back upon the sands at home. She peers over G'wain's shoulder, pregnant middle pressing into the ridge in front of her, despite the bronze's size. "Is--" she begins, although she trails off, her head shaking as she glances around.

Katren can't help but notice the bronze as it wings in above, though her initial reaction is simply to make sure that it lands far enough away the clean clothes she's been folding don't get put in jeopardy. She keeps her hands busy with a rather oversized shirt as she walks in that direction, keeping a cautious eye on the oversized 'lizard that's come in from seemingly out of nowhere. "Anything I can do for you?" she calls once she draws near enough that she might conceivably be heard, with her attention distracted between the dragon and her chore. Enough that she doesn't get to good of a look at the rider.

G'wain slips from the dragon first, turning his back to Katren to help his weyrmate down. Ahreluth makes himself as small as possible on the ground, obliginly making something of a staircase so that Lydiere can get down more easily. A familiar voice calls back to Katren, "I've got it all under control." Maybe not so familiar... his voice hadn't broken when he left.

Lydiere's expression is vaguely relieved at the assistance she gets from G'wain and Ahreluth, although her downwards climb is nonetheless a slow, laborious process. "Oof," says she, beneath her breath as they reach the bottom, "I don't think I'll be doing much more flying befo--" Her head turns, as G'wain makes his comment to Katren, eyes lighting as she steps forward, brushing her - amazingly tidy - clothes off.

Katren pauses in her steps the moment that voice reaches her ears. It's different, certainly, yet somehow... She tilts her head to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of G'wain's face, though the smile on her face says that she's already laughing at herself for such a silly thought. "Do I--" she begins, then breaks off abruptly. Lydiere is given a warm, albeit hesitant smile. Well, you don't know until you ask. "Gerwain?" There, she said it, and in a reasonable tone as well, despite the fact her hands are fiddling incessently with the collar of the shirt she holds.

G'wain wasn't sure that she'd recognise him, and once he's helped Lydiere down, he breaks into a full run from nothing, tears in his eyes. Even if she's not ready for it, he wraps her in a hug, crying into her, whispering, "Mother..." He didn't think that he would be /this/ affected, and Lydiere likely knows this. "Oh, I missed you..." And over and over he says these things, just happy to see her again.

Lydiere is much more dignified in her approach-- although she walks with an ungainly gait, all but waddling-- her head tilted to the side as she hesitates somewhat behind the happily, reunited mother and son, no doubt feeling somewhat the third wheel. She bites at her lip, resting hands down upon her middle, letting a smile blossom upon to her face in quiet relief. She's content - more than content - to stay back, and let them have their moment.

Katren doesn't react for a moment, beyond staring at the young man that has swept her so easily into his embrace. "Gerwain," she says again, and with that word spoken the realization hits, and she raises her arms to wrap them tight around her son's body. The expression on her face is nothing short of wonderment, first at him, then the dragon, then the lovely woman that he's brought with him... then at the woman's swollen belly. It's so much to take in all at once, and if she didn't have G'wain to hold on to, her knees would likely give out on her. "Baby..." she murmurs numbly, running her hand across his back as though to make sure he's really there, unconscious tears welling in her eyes. "You both must be starving... let me get you something to eat." Still a mother at heart.

'Gerwain' can't help but laugh, and shakes his head. "No, no. There's things to tell you first. It's all going to be shock, I know. This is Lydiere. Lydiere, this is Katren. Lydiere is a rider at Ista too, and yes, she's pregnant with my child. That dragon over there? He's Ahreluth, my lifemate." He'd better keep the news to a minimum, at least at first. Oh, and he'd better release Katren too. "And my name's G'wain now, too... but I don't mind if you call me Gerwain." His grin is broad - it couldn't get any less so. He doesn't release her though, hugging her again. Lydiere isn't ignored... It's just he hasn't seen his mother in 5 odd turns!

Lydiere's face breaks into an even broader smile, as she takes a half-step forward, still reluctant to break into the reunion - she certainly can't blame either of them. After a long pause, in which she's evidently not sure what to say, she notes, "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. And no, no thank you. I ate something before we left."

Katren takes a step back from her son as he speaks, though she doesn't let go by any means. She just wants to get a good look at his face. Her own is looking almost comical as he continues, eyes widening and mouth very nearly dropping wide open. It takes several moments for her to figure out exactly what to say, and again it isn't exactly what one might expect. "And you're so tall," she whispers, and manages a shaky smile before turning to Lydiere. One thing must be processed at a time, and somehow the lady is easier than the dragon... in fact, if she'll permit it, Kat will wrap her right up in a hug just as tight as the one she just gave her son. "Pleasure's all mine," she says in return, sounding almost breathless from the shock.

G'wain can't get that grin off his face, and releasing his mother so that she can greet his weyrmate, he stands there looking rather more... forlorn, than usual... more like a little kid. And he's trying to make himself shorter, too. How cute! "Sorry to arrive like this, without warning." He doesn't sound all that apologetic, with that smile. "And I'm sorr yot have left visiting for so long." The prodigal son returns.

Lydiere is momentarily surprised by Katren's hug, but accepts it without a qualm, allowing her own arms to wrap about the woman as she squeezes warmly, pulling back with that beaming smile still in place. "I tried to get him to visit sooner, but he's a little stubborn, your son," she notes, glancing mirthfully towards her weyrmate, and then towards his mother. "But he talks about you all the time."

Katren holds onto Lydiere for a moment longer, eyes closed and mouth curved into a smile of sheer bliss, before she steps back to survey this pair that have landed in her backyard. "Yes, well, you should be sorry Gerry," she says, straightening up as she speaks to try and regain some semblance of control. As though it's going to last long. She still has a sparkle of tears in her eyes, and her legs are still a touch wobbly when she moves. "A little stubborn? Well, that's putting it mildly," Kat agrees, sending Lydiere a warm look, already having adopted her internally as a daughter. Understandably, after having been without family for so long. "Oh Ger-- G'wain," she begins again, trying out the new name with caution, as she lowers her gaze to Lydiere's stomach. "At least you've made good use of your time away."

G'wain raises an eyebrow, the same twinkle still in his eyes as he wipes away the tears he shed from his cheeks. "I'm not stubborn!" Yeah, right. Folding his arms, he pouts. Five minutes, and he's turning back into that little kid. At the 'good use of time' comment, he loses the expression, and takes a step forward. "That's kind of what we wanted to speak about. Could we go inside, out of the heat and sit?" He looks to his 'mate - she's probably uncomfortable.

"I wasn't sure if that was something he'd developed since meeting /me/ or not," admits Lydiere, a teasing glance made towards her weyrmate, as she notes quietly to Katren, "Although that seems unlikely, I admit." She lifts her head to remark, lips quirked, "Not at all, dearest. Not at /all/ stubborn." She pauses, all those glances at her middle ensuring that her hands fall back there somewhat protectively; she certainly does look a little wobbly. "Ah, er, yes."

Katren shakes her head, turning that fond eye on her little boy... as that's always what he's going to be, no matter how much time has passed. "No, he's always been that. Stubborn as they come, though I can't -imagine- who he got it from," she muses, obviously not one to implicate herself. At G'wain's suggestion that they go in, she looks completely shocked for a moment. "Of course... of course. Where was my mind? Of course, Lydiere needs to sit. Please, go in. I'll make us up a nice hot pot of tea, or something, if that sounds all right by you?" There, now, she will cater to them as best she can, now that the initial life-defining shock has minimized somewhat. "Follow me." She heads off towards the house, which also gives her a moment to brush away that sparkle in her eye - and toss the shirt she still carries into the laundry basket as she passes.

G'wain follows Katren in, and finds the layout of the hold exactly the same as when he left it. There's a glance towards the room that he once occupied - he doesn't particularly want to go there, but he glances, nonetheless - and he heads into the kitchen, pulling out a chair for Lydiere. "I'll get the tea, if everything's still in the same place." Isn't that nice of him? "Lydiere... perhaps you could explain a little of why we're here?"

Lydiere follows G'wain, glancing around the unfamiliar building with interest; she's never before been in a place like this, having lived in weyrs, or the main building of a major hold, all of her life. She accepts the chair G'wain pulls out for her, stretching out her legs beneath the table, arms up above her head. "You have a lovely home," she begins, nodding towards G'wain at his suggestion. "We... G'wain and I were wondering if you would be willing to come back to Ista with us. We'd like you to be-- around, I suppose. I'd like to get to know you, and G'wain's missed you so much, and with the baby..." She's taken to babbling, and shuts up quickly. "I'm not good with this kind of thing. G'wain, next time, it's /your/ turn to suggest alternative living arrangements."

"I think you'll find that not a thing has changed around here, Gerry," Katren says mildly, as she watches him pulling a chair away from the table. That statement has more than one meaning too, though she doesn't elaborate. From somewhere behind her she produces a rag and takes a moment to wipe down the table, though it already looks pristine. Guests, must have special treatment. "Thank you, Lydiere. I try to keep it up as best I can," Kat says, giving the other woman a smile. It isn't until Lydiere starts speaking again that Katren takes a seat, slowly, glancing from her son to his weyrmate. "Go with you?" she repeats, as though the idea had never occurred to her. "Leave. He... Brockwell, that is. My husband," she adds briefly, as though Lydeire wouldn't already know. "He wouldn't like that." Yet despite that token protest, there's a certain look in her eye, especially as she looks on Lydeire stomach, her grandchild yet unborn. She's tempted.

G'wain nods his head to Lydiere, a light laugh bubbling forth. "Alright. To continue with what Lydiere said, I remember you telling me that you were generally good with midwifery, and since Lydiere's having a baby, and I'd like you to be there..." He shrugs his shoulders. For once, it's all logical. "We'd like you to come up and live at Ista, at least until the baby's born, and maybe a little after, too." He adds that in, then grimaces a little. He picked up her double meaning. Finding the tea, he sets up the kettle on the stove. There aren't many of the new-fangled things in this holding, but there are the good ones, the ones that make life much easier. "I know He wouldn't like it." Muttering softly, G'wain adds, "That's the point." He's certainly glad that she hasn't insisted on bringing him along. "But the point is... would /you/ like it? Stop thinking about him for once." Bringing his fist down on a benchtop, G'wain suprises even himself with the force used.

Lydiere jumps slightly at G'wain's fist upon the table, although by her expression, the emotions surrounding G'wain's father are not new to her. She lays her hands upon the table, one drawing towards G'wain's, a silent gesture as she reaches for his grasp, her attention focused upon Katren. "It would mean a lot to us - both of us, all three of us, I suppose," a glance down to her middle occurs at this point, and then she refocuses upon Katren. "But only if you want to. We understand, if you don't." Wisely(?) she refrains from making any comment on Brockwell.

Katren can't help but startle too, when G'wain's fist connects. Her emotions were already on edge from the surprises of the day, and this reaction from her boy makes her bow her head - not a usual response to anything. "It's kind of hard not to think about him, Gerwain," she replies, rather mildly despite the fact that tears are threatening to well up again. "I've lived with him alone for the past five turns, I'm not used to having anyone suggest that I think for myself, rather than entirely for him." She hesitates a moment after that, then rises to her feet to bustle over to a cupboard. She pulls out three tea cups, three saucers, three spoons, and doesn't speak again until she has them set out on the table in their proper places. Even then it's in a soft tone, halting, as though her good sense keeps trying to stop her. "When we go, will I have to ride that creature out there?" is what she asks, with a wavering smile. She has her priorities in check.

G'wain listens to her carefully, watching the cups and saucers without making a noise. When he speaks of Ahreluth, the dragon outside makes his way ever so carefully towards the hold, and sets his head near the door. My, that'll be a shock, later. "Unless you want to ride a runner..." He grins a little. "Ahreluth is harmless. Really. He's awfully sweet once you get to know him, though I'm sure he--" G'wain pauses a moment, and chuckes. "Yep. He denies it. He also says he'd like to meet you too."

Lydiere's face might as well be split in half by the beam it bears, although she's altogether placid in expression besides. "He's not so large as Llysereth," she comments, wryly, "if that's any compensation at all. You can sit between G'wain and myself, though - perfectly safe."

Katren taps her fingertips on the tabletop, pursing her lips as she contemplates. After only a moment she raises her eyes to her son, and gives a slow nod of her head. "Well, if he picked you, he must be okay," she concludes, and takes a deep breath. "Just ask him to be as steady as he can, for my sake." Lydiere's comment bring another look of surprise to the older woman's face, though she really should have known... if she'd taken a moment to think about it. "You're a rider too, then?" There's a beat, then her eyes really open wide. "Of course you are. I've heard of you, I just didn't make the connection..." A junior weyrwoman, no less. Life has certainly taken a turn for the unexpected. Kat fumbles again for a moment, trying to absorb the full weight of the decision she's just made. "So when... when do you suppose we'll leave? I'll have to pack a bag. Write a note. Don't think I'll say exactly where I'm going," she adds, with a hint of a laugh behind her words. "Wouldn't want him to come try and bring me back, but I ought to let him know that I'm gone. Though I suppose he'd notice, eventually."

G'wain can't help but snicker at Kat's words. "I wonder if he would? If I remember correctly, he'd stumble home drunk at the end of a restday, and..." He pales a little. "And fall into bed for the next two." It's clear he's glossing over something, and to all parties, it's probably clear what he's glossing over. "You're right though - Ahreluth's pretty special. We can leave as soon as you are ready. And even if he does know where you are, he'll have most of the Weyr to fight to get to you." There's a nod there, firm.

Lydiere blushes ruefully, at Katren's mention of having heard of her, hands drawing back towards her lap, pressing there as if it's likely to be more comfortable - somehow. "Er, yes," she agrees, apparently in response to that comment, going promptly silent at G'wain's further comments about his father. "You'll be-- safe," she murmurs, although she shakes her head - not the word she'd really like to use, just not quite right, "At Ista. We can leave as soon as you're ready," she adds, quickly.

Katren gives the teacups a long lingering look, then turns away. Tea will have to wait for another time. "Give me five minutes," she says, determined to be gone quickly now that it's decided she's going to be gone at all. She disappears into her room, to emerge a few minutes later with a hastily packed bag, bulging slightly from being overstuffed with oddly shaped objects. In her other hand she holds a single piece of paper, detailing the usual - the fact that she's going, that she's not coming back, and what and where his dinner is. Her name signed at the bottom, with a flourish. This she sets in the center of the table, underneath one of the teacups, then looks up at her son with her jaw set resolutely. "All right. Let's see how this Ahreluth can fly."